I Will Not Fail Them
by Rose and Thorn
Summary: Edmund's simple faith in him gave Peter the courage to fight in the Battle of Beruna. A story of brothers and the forgiveness one earned.


**AN: **Hello all! Here's my longest fic to date. Enjoy!

This is movieverse. Some of the conversation is from the movie as is the setting. I'm in my unoriginal mood -_-.

Reviews are welcomed very enthusiastically.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. At all.

* * *

Peter strode out of the tent, despair etched upon his tired face.

" He's gone," was all he said.

Edmund and Orieus exchanged a glance.

" Then you'll have to lead us, Peter," the General said, turning to the boy with a stern and impassive face. Peter looked up, shocked.

" I can't!" he cried, running a hand through blonde hair caked with dirt."I'm not a leader! I can't do it, Orieus. I just _can't_." He sank to the ground, his head in his hands.

" Aslan believed you could." Edmund's voice came softly to Peter's ears. " And so do I."

The quiet faith was unmistakable. Peter raised his head and stared at his brother. This boy with the dark, shining eyes and determined jaw did not look or sound like the stubborn, bitter little boy who had betrayed him and his family. This boy looked like a warrior - a king. Peter smiled grimly and got to his feet.

" Do you, Ed?" He asked, placing one hand on his brother's shoulder and the other on the hilt of his sword. " And what if I am killed?"

Edmund grit his teeth. " I believe in you, Peter," he said earnestly, " and if you are killed - well, that isn't going to happen. You're strong, Peter. That's why this army is willing to follow you. They know you will do your best for them."

Peter let go of Edmund's shoulder and turned towards the swiftly rising sun. In that direction lay Aslan's camp. Already creatures were bustling about, intent on preparing for the upcoming battle. They looked so happy, so contented, even in the face of what many knew would be their final battle. Peter sighed as he remembered Aslan's words of the morning... only the morning? It felt a lifetime ago.

_I too must keep my family safe_.

With Aslan gone, did not that charge fall to him?

" I will lead them, Orieus," he said, his grasp on his sword tightening. " I will not fail them."

Neither Orieus nor Peter saw Edmund bow his head and smile sadly. " No, Peter," he whispered to himself. " You will not fail them, as I have."

* * *

It was later that day, high noon, to be precise, that Peter sat upon his unicorn, armoured and ready for battle. Behind and above him stood Edmund, also armoured, also ready. Both boys felt the beginnings of nausea as they beheld the fearsome ranks of horrible and disgusting creatures the Witch commanded.

Edmund, high among the archers, clutched his sword nervously. He was only twelve, for goodness sake! What twelve year old fought in battles for a magical land? Settling his helm more firmly on his head, he supplied the answer.

Edmund Pevensie, of course.

With a strange thrill of exhilaration, Edmund suddenly realised that in this battle he could make up for his failings . He could fight for Narnia and protect the Narnians, and so, somehow, fix his betrayal. A glance of the Witch, resplendent in shorn mane, only hardened his resolve. He would restore Narnia (and Peter's) faith in him, or die in the attempt.

Peter, in the front ranks, felt no such exhilaration. Seeing the witch only heightened his feeling of nausea. Indeed, as soon as he saw Aslan's mane around her neck, physical proof of the Lion's death, he dry-retched. His heart felt like it was beating in his throat. For a moment worry consumed him and he clutched at the unicorn's mane to keep himself from falling.

_You're strong, Peter. That's why this army is willing to follow you._

Edmund's words echoed in his head. Straightening, the soon-to-be High King glanced over his shoulder. He received a solemn nod of encouragement from the boy who gazed fearlessly back at him.

Clang! went the visor as Peter drew his sword.

" For Narnia and for Aslan!" He cried, unconsciously creating a battle cry which would echo from the lips of leaders in Narnia for millenniums to come. The Narnians cheered.

The battle which followed was bloody and, at first, seemed to be a losing cause. Brave Narnian after Narnian fell to the cruel and sadistic Witch. Statue after Statue soon dotted the battle ground. Peter, seeing that they had little chance, gave the command to retreat, to fall back to the shelter of the rocks.

He didn't see the Witch approaching, but Orieus and a brave rhino did. They ignored his command to save his life. Peter could only gape in horror as the Witch turned them into cold, hard stone.

He looked around for Edmund.

" Ed," he yelled, drawing his sword out of the carcass of a horrible creature, devoid of face, who bit and cursed as he breathed his last. " Get the girls and-" he paused long enough to lop the head off a hag- " get them home. Now!"

Edmund felt a warm, furry hand in his, tugging insistently. He paid it no heed. The Witch was near Peter. She was looking towards him, cold and businesslike, her hand firmly grasping her wand. The wand! Edmund let go of the beaver's hand and dashed forward, sword outstretched.

" Peter said to go," the beaver said, insistently, taking hold of the boy's tunic and stopping his flight.

" Peter's not king yet." And with that, Edmund wrenched himself free.

The distance between himself and the Witch was short, but to Edmund, running as fast as he could, it seemed to go on forever. Every step the Witch took was endangering Peter! The distance bridged, he leapt from a small cliff and brought his sword down as hard as he could on the Witch's wand.

She was too quick.

Snatching her wand out of the way, the Witch made a pass at him with her sword. Foolish woman! She should have turned him into stone when she had the chance. Edmund parried to the best of his ability and then returned to the item which held top priority in his mind.

A wave of icy coldness swept into and through him as the wand splintered under his sword. The coldness did not last long. A burning sensation, starting from his stomach, flooded his body. The pain was too much. With a soundless cry and a last glance at the triumphant countenance of the Witch, Edmund fell heavily.

His last thought as he faded from consciousness was for Peter. Was he safe? Would the Witch kill him?

Darkness flooded his vision.

* * *

Something wet touched his lips and a warm, vibrant feeling sped through his veins.

Blink. Blink.

Edmund opened his eyes. Where was he? It didn't feel like heaven. Looking around he saw, in rapid succession, three pairs of anxious eyes. Each pair of eyes contained unshed tears. Edmund blinked again as three pairs of arms latched themselves to his body and hugged him close.

" When are you going to do what you're told?"

He'd know that phrase anywhere.

" Hullo, Peter." Edmund grinned. He looked at his sisters and smiled brightly.

And then he saw the Lion.

Aslan padded forward, his long tail lashing his flanks, and, after a long look at Edmund, bade Lucy take her bottle and follow him.

Only Edmund knew what that look meant, and it caused the tears to come to his eyes.

It meant forgiveness.


End file.
